


Nothing Says "I'm Sorry" Like a Tuna Casserole

by kiscico



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Brotherly Affection, Casseroles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiscico/pseuds/kiscico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Checking up on me, eh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Well, that and I had this craving for tuna casserole. I figured you might have some on hand. And behold. Casserole.”</p>
<p>Charlie receives news of the events at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Says "I'm Sorry" Like a Tuna Casserole

One thing that Charlie Weasley had, for whatever reason, inherited from his mother, besides the obvious looks, was her propensity to cook when nervous. Somehow, at an early age, Charlie had invariably learned that when something was wrong or something bad happened food was a supposed cure-all. Since then, Charlie had learned otherwise, but he still understood, quite well, why people felt the urge to give the aggrieved casseroles.

In fact, that was why he was up at three in the morning cooking a casserole in a drafty, Romanian tent that smelled of dragons. He had just gotten news about the poor Diggory boy, and his heart went out to the boy's parents but also to Harry. Harry,who had already seen so much in his life, had now been forced to witness the rising of the Dark Lord. At least that was what Charlie had gathered from his father's brief note. He wasn't even sure who this casserole was for. The Diggory's? Harry? Maybe it was for himself.

Charlie had been only seven when the Dark Lord was defeated, but he still remembered the times before that. His father and mother coming and going. Wizards in and out of the Burrow. And the door questions. He remembered those the best. Anytime anyone came to the door, he had to ask specific questions to make sure they were who they said they were. As a child he had thought it a bit of a game. As an adult, he was just glad no one had ever gotten the answers wrong on his watch. 

He quickly pushed away thoughts of Bill narrowly dodging the Killing Curse, and his mother throwing hexes at what appeared to be her husband. _Bill! Go! Take your brother!_ Green and red flashes of light ricocheting off walls and wards. And Bill, his big brother, holding him close as they hid underneath the living room couch.

Charlie re-focused his attention back on the concoction he was pulling out of his oven. It was quite the tuna casserole, if he didn't say so himself. Charlie cut himself a healthy slice and sat down to enjoy his handiwork. Not as good as his mom's, but better than nothing. He couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. He had just received a letter that told him in no uncertain terms that the Dark Lord had returned, and his response was a slice of tuna casserole. _Take that, Voldemort_ , Charlie thought as he viciously stabbed a stray piece of tuna. Charlie paused a second, glaring at the offending piece of tuna before thoughtfully taking another bite.

When he heard the tell-tale _pop_ of Disapparation, though, Charlie Weasley reacted with speed and skill honed first with a childhood of fear, then Quidditch, and then handling dragons. He was up out of his chair, wand barely out of his pocket before the “Stupefy!” left his mouth. He heard the hex miss, and was about to let loose another when he caught sight of a familiar shade of red.

“Bill?” 

“Wotcher, Charlie,” Bill responded with a grin. Charlie relaxed and stepped into his brother's embrace. With grim determination, though, Charlie stepped back.

“What's my favorite breed of dragon?” Bill gave him a wan smile.

“Welsh greens, because if you pet them just right they purr and sing. Or so I'm told. But you tell everyone your favorite is either Ridgebacks or Horntails.”

Charlie returned the grin and hugged Bill tight again.

“You're not done yet, Chuck. Why Egypt?” A quick glare.

“Don't call me Chuck. We always used to say that we would run away from our crazy family and become Aurors in Egypt. Except Egypt doesn't have Aurors. So that plan kind of fell through. What are you doing here anyway?” Bill grabbed a chair and pushed Charlie towards his.

“I wanted to check up on you, after I heard the news.” Neither of them wanted to say it out loud but they both knew what the other was thinking about. Hexes rebounding, the air hot with magic. And their mother calling to them. _Now, boys. Bill! Take your brother!_

“Checking up on me, eh?”

“Yeah. Well, that and I had this craving for tuna casserole. I figured you might have some on hand. And behold. Casserole.” Charlie grinned and got a plate for Bill. By the time he returned to his seat, Bill had commandeered his plate, and was industriously making his way through Charlie's piece of casserole. Charlie just smiled, and served himself up another piece. Growing up with six siblings had made him accustomed to if not expectant of plate-stealing antics.

Bill and Charlie sat there in the semi-darkness of Charlie's drafty, Romanian tent and ate tuna casserole, and hoped that Harry had been mistaken- that the Dark Lord had not, in fact, returned. In the cold and silence the two Weasleys tried desperately not to think about their mother and father teaching them hexes and curses before they had even begun school. They had thought that those dark times were over and done with, and that they would never need to ask questions to ascertain the true identity of their family. They were sadly wrong.

That night Charlie was comforted by his brother's quiet presence as they lay in the darkness and tried to avoid the nightmares that sprung up behind closed eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from a line in Supernatural. (Episode 1.14, the one in which Sam and Dean pretend to be priests.)


End file.
